


In Another Life

by Amphitrity



Category: Astonishing X-Men, Avengers (Comics), Marvel (House of M), New Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, House of M universe, Pietro is an eligible royal bachelor, this is a sad and emotional story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4522629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amphitrity/pseuds/Amphitrity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world crumbled and collapsed, restructuring itself like Lego blocks and everything burned to white. Still, at the end of it all, among the dust and the ashes and the agony, the two of them were left standing, clinging to their memories of a short-lived, remorseful bliss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Another Life

“It’s a good thing ya have your speed, since ya insist on rushin’ away, every dawn, even b’fore your father wakes up.” There was coldness and disappointment in Rogue’s voice that, Pietro noted, was increasing steadily after each night they spent together.

He couldn’t blame her, really. They were playing this game for far too long for someone like Anna Marie to comply. She was the most exquisite element in this perfect world they were living in; an elegant combination of undisputed strength, strong will and gentle compassion. Everything their utopia stood for; a mutant dominated society, which tolerated to the greatest extent those less fortunate who were doomed to extinct in a few decades, either way. The House of Magnus had established an empire so magnificent indeed, in which everyone was allowed to experience the life that they had dared to imagine only in their wildest dreams.

It was all a lie, of course. But that particular morning, Pietro wasn’t remembering; he was mindlessly putting on his uniform, with deliberately slow movements, after Rogue’s bitter remarks, throwing her apologetic looks.

She was lying on her stomach, her feet at the top of the double bed, her head prompted by her arms. Her knees were bent upwards and she was swinging her legs through the air with a cheerfulness that didn’t match the sadness in her eyes.

She was like a little girl, learning to touch naked flesh all over again. Pietro knew her story well. He had witnessed a great part of it himself, when his father discovered a scared orphaned Southerner girl who couldn’t hold anyone without stealing their life force, and in their case, their special powers. A life of sheer isolation was lying ahead of her, if Magnus hadn’t rescued her that day, almost a decade ago, from the Mutant Relocation Center in Marysville.

Since then, not only had she managed to control her powers, but also to manipulate them with such dexterity and skill that she was regularly employed for the protection of their kingdom. She had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and soon she rose to the rank of a Red Guard agent, the agency’s top strike force. She had also found a mother in Mystique, who adopted her and raised her along with her own son, Kurt.

Pietro knew that his father (along with Professor Xavier before his premature demise) had a lot to do with Rogue’s taming the energies inside her, and he was half grateful half resenting him for it. Coming to terms with the fact that the man who had discovered him and trained him, designating him as his deputy leader and shared with him the dream of an astonishing world, was in reality his biological father, had been a difficult and strenuous task in and of itself. So it was given that their nature of their relationship would always grate on the antagonistic side, and especially where Anna Marie was concerned, Pietro wished he had been the one able to deliver such an amazing gift to her.

He often wondered what it would have been like to wield power like his father and sister, to be able of things far greater than a wind shear or delivering a punch at Mach 5.

And most of all, he worried how his other sister, the love of his life, the reason for his existence, must have felt, surviving in a world of amazement, being mundane, a “normal” human in a universe that no longer tolerated the un-extraordinary, destined to become obsolete. He would burn the world to the ground before he'd let something like that happen to her. He had done it before, hadn’t he? Something about these contemplations of his felt awfully familiar…

_The world crumbled and collapsed, restructuring itself like Lego blocks and everything burned to white_

“Are ya even listenin’ to me, sugah?” Rogue’s voice brought him back to _this_ reality, before the veracity of it all had the chance to slip through the cracks of his mind and taint everything with its cruel revelations.

“I am going to tell him about us soon,” he promised with a forced certainty in his voice that he has long since been practicing using when referring to his father and absolute ruler of their enforced paradise.

Rogue scoffed and rolled on her back, staring at the ceiling of her bedroom, her knees bent and her arms folded to her chest.

“It’s been three years, Pietro.”

He sighed and averted his gaze to the floor, too embarrassed and angry with himself to even look at her. Still, he tried to offer his regular and overly used excuses, mostly out of habit and to honor the routine of that particular conversation.

“Well, it’s not that easy to just approach him with such a serious topic. He has a lot on his mind, you know..”

“Oh, stop it,” Rogue cut him in, sitting up and staring at him indignantly. “Ya know what the real problem is. Magneto will never allow his heir to be involved with a plain S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, let alone an unrefined former river rat like mahself.” She paused to catch her breath and Pietro noted how defeated she looked; he wanted to rush to her side in an instant, wrap his arms around her and reassure her that those were just unfounded fears but he wasn’t so sure about that himself. His father saw the gain in everything, even in an arranged marriage and he definitely had bigger aspirations for his only male offspring.

“There’s no point denyin’ it, Pietro,” she continued, “Ah know he has assigned ya to woo Queen Ororo.” She snorted at that, mostly to hide the dejection in her voice, Pietro surmised.

“She would have been the perfect match for ya, that’s for sure; y’all have even the same hair, for crissake.”

Her voice was clearly wavering now, so Quicksilver quit resisting and slumped down on the bed beside her. He looped his arm around her shoulders, and drew her closely to his body, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t want _her_. Or anyone else for that matter,” he started comforting her while rubbing his hand across her naked back. Their proximity was enough to stimulate him again, since his libido was (like everything else mercurial in his life) so fickle, that it emerged and retreated sometimes within seconds, sometimes flowing all over the place ferociously, others flickering inside him softly and non-urgently.

So he waited a few shallow moments, composing himself before speaking again. “It is true, my father has indeed appointed me suitor of Kenya’s Queen,” he confessed having long ago realized that the complete and blunt truth was the most appropriate course of action when dealing with a distressed Rogue.

“But my courtship methods are so atrocious that most surely guarantee a subtle rejection. I mean, I actually brought her ice cream from Italy the other day. Who does that to a full grown woman?” He snorted, trying to sound a bit more nonchalant about the whole affair, because, in his mind, the chances of an arranged marriage between him and Ororo were practically down to zero. His forced cheerfulness did the trick though, since Rogue grinned tentatively, her mind going back to memories of their own flirting and how awkward Pietro had looked trying to express his interest for her in a fanciful, almost quaint way.

She basically had to drag his royal ass behind a fancy hedge sculpture on the palace grounds, during a charitable event that the Red Guard had been assigned to overlook and burn his skull with her intense stare until he leaned down nervously and brought their lips together. She still remembered how it had felt, since pretty much every girl in the domain must have fantasized at some point about kissing the royal heir and becoming the next princess. Rogue had been so preoccupied, struggling with her devastating power that even the thought of romantic adventures brought back the memory of her first kiss that led an innocent, vibrant boy to being reduced to a comatose relic, robbed of his youth and his future experiences. So, although she was aware of it she didn’t partake in the princess wannabe hysteria. It wasn’t even until she had been rescued by Magnus that she fully discerned what the prince looked like, when Pietro was bursting into the medic chamber in Genosha, where she was being examined under the vigilant supervision of Magneto himself, to deliver news to his father or just to steal some glimpses of his new pet experiment. A short time after they got together, he confirmed what she had been suspecting all along; that his lingering visits to the infirmary had something to do with how vulnerable and lonely she looked inside the complicated machinery programmed to understand the technicalities of her mutation.

But, at that moment, when they shared their first kiss, behind that ridiculous garden statue, she wasn't thinking that she was kissing the most eligible bachelor in the world but instead of how right it had felt to do so.

“You are thinking about our first kiss again, aren’t you?” Pietro smiled at her and when she gave a small nod, he brought his fingers to her face and brushed away the white bangs he came to enjoy so much.

“As far as hair goes, I think we got it covered,” he whispered and she couldn’t keep her cold exterior anymore, she grinned widely before he captured her mouth with his own, murmuring against her lips how much he loved her.

* * *

 

He had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he was speeding away from Rogue’s quarters in the grounded Hellicarrier. They used to be more discreet about their relationship, hiding away in safe houses and remote hotel rooms, but after three years they were both tired of keeping it a secret anymore. Pietro had been contemplating the best way to inform his father of their affair for almost six months now, but every time he tried to initiate such a conversation, a matter more urgent would distract them both.

Upon reaching Magneto’s citadel he headed directly to his sister’s chambers. He found her inside her bedroom, resting atop the lavish bed, reading. She was alone.

“Where are the boys?” was the first thing that came to Pietro’s mind since everyone in Genosha was overly protective of the twins.

“With father and Lorna,” Wanda responded, without looking up from her book. Pietro nodded, although she didn’t see it, no longer impressed by his sister’s uncanny ability to sense his presence; it had been that way since they were little kids surviving off the Balkan land.

“Do you mind if a stay with you for a while?” he asked.

This time, Wanda lifted her head and gave him a warm smile, closing her book.

“Of course not,” she replied warmly “we rarely get to be in each other’s company these days,” she said, sitting up and settling at the bottom of the bed, her legs dangling over the edge. Pietro flopped on the floor, his back resting against the frame, beside his sister’s legs.

“Well, we are both extremely busy,” he shrugged. “Running an empire it’s a full-time job. Plus you are completely engaged in raising those two ruffians,” he added with an obvious fondness in his voice. He really cherished his nephews.

Wanda smirked and glanced over at his silvery head, tempted to knead his locks with her fingers.“Oh, I’m not talking about that, little brother”. Pietro winced at her pet name. They never did learn which came first but Pietro always assumed the mantle of the older brother, even by mere seconds, mostly in order to justify his unfathomably constant state of worry as far as his sister was concerned. Wanda, unfazed by her brother’s unexpressed protests, continued “I’m referring to your long-lasting activities with a certain S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.”

Pietro stiffed but wasn’t exactly surprised. Of course Wanda would know about Rogue. She knew everything. For a baseline human being, she demonstrated a wide range of exceptional powers.

“Does father know?” was the very first question that sprung to his mind; he didn’t even bother asking how his sister had found out and how long she had known.

“No, I don’t think so,” she reassured him, since she knew that Magneto had been the reason for Pietro keeping it a secret from pretty much everybody.

Pietro leaned his head against his sister’s legs, until he rested it in her lap. “I’m going to tell him about us, eventually. I mean, there is no point hiding it anymore and Anna Marie is getting restless.” He tipped back his head and raised his eyes to give his sister an intense stare. “I love her, Wanda. I want to build a life with her.” There was uncertainty and hesitation in his voice, like he was begging for his sister’s word of approval.

She just smiled at him affectionately and stopped resisting the urge to stroke his hair.

“I know you do, my brother. And I’m so thrilled about this development. You, more than anyone, deserve to be happy.”

Something tugged at Pietro’s chest then. He averted his gaze, staring at the wall across the bed, gasping for air shallowly, not able to explain this sudden, overwhelming feeling of… ambiguity perhaps, that flooded him, washed over him and left him breathless.

They remained silent after that for a long while. Wanda looked like she was contemplating something of grave importance, her smile gone from her lips. She kept caressing her brother’s hair, her fingers forming strange gestures. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, like she had since composed herself, though Pietro could detect the imposed calmness which disguised the fact that his sister was one small step away from falling apart.

“I would never have guessed, my brother, that somewhere, deep inside the most perplexed paths of your heart, you would crave for this. I would have never imagined something like your relationship with Rogue existing in our world.”

At her words, a nauseating feeling crept up from the pits of his stomach to the most remote veins of his temples as the memories of another life, of a _real_ life dawned upon him, suffocating him with their vividness. He bolted to his feet, as if struck by lightning.

“Wanda! No! Why did you make me forget? Why?” He kneeled before her, grabbing her hands with his own. “I was supposed to be by your side, every step of the way! I was supposed to help you with this.” He was almost shouting, exasperated and desperate, devastated by the truth that caught up with him.

“Pietro, please.” Her voice had a soothing quality now, which calmed him down a bit, instantly, as he was starving for consolation, regardless whether it was real or not.

Wanda slipped her hands out of his grasp and cupped his face. “You know I can’t completely control it. Sometimes, everything threatens to slither away from my influence and I can’t let that happen. It’s not just you that moves in and out of awareness.”

“That’s why I need to be by your side at _all_ times,” Pietro insisted “to guide you, to aid you.”

“But you are so lonely, my brother. So afflicted.” She lowered her gaze and almost whispered “so torn by remorse. Everyone got what they always wanted but what about you?”

“I do _not_ matter, Wanda. Only this…” he waved a hand through the air, gesturing at everything around them … “matters. This world,” he clarified. “Our perfect creation.”

She was staring at him, now, a manic gleam in her eyes, where all the struggles of a universe in pain were welling up.

“Even _I_ can’t hold on to it. And I have to…I have to for the sake of my children, Pietro.” She clung desperately to him, her fingers digging through his flesh “my children are real, aren’t they, brother? Tell me my children are real!”

Pietro couldn’t bring himself to answer. He just stood there, watching her with petrified eyes, holding her shoulders as loud sobs shuddered through her body, until everything turned to white once again.

* * *

 

It was late in the afternoon and darkness was falling quickly over the royal gardens. Pietro was leaning against the stone railing of the terrace, taking in the beauty of the evening. His mind was a bit hazy; he remembered spending the previous night with Rogue and at some point talking to his sister, but not much more besides that. The predominant feeling that was engulfing him that night though, was a sense of relief upon realizing that his sister had known about him and Anna Marie and was, evidently, supporting of their relation. He was confident that Lorna would react in a same way.

Speaking of whom, his youngest sister was approaching him from the citadel. Pietro, upon hearing the rustling of footsteps, turned his head around and watched her sliding towards him, gracefully and ethereally, her feet barely touching the stony pavement. His chest swelled up with love for her. He had spent most of his life ignorant of her existence and in retrospect that was another cause for him resenting his father. He was so proud of the woman his little sister had turned out to be and simultaneously he was sad that he had missed out on her childhood and her adolescence.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Lorna stated when she was at his side.

“Indeed,” Pietro agreed.

After a few silent moments, she elaborated “I think it’s a full moon.”

Pietro lifted his chin in a slow, unescapable way, like the obligatory slow motion sequence before the final death scene, and let his eyes rest on the silver, round object floating on the black sky.

He fell to the ground. What came over him in that moment was so intense, so overpowering, that took his breath away and disrupted his ability to function even the simplest of tasks like standing on his own two legs.

Lorna was crouching over him awkwardly, unable to determine what was wrong with her brother, her eyes scanning their environment for imminent threats. There was no tangible cause for what was Pietro experiencing at that moment.

It was the loss. The grief and the excruciating pain that was like an enormous hole sucking whatever shreds of sanity he had left.

It was the knowledge that somewhere, in a different time and place, in another life, he had a daughter that he loved and cared for and held close to his chest during restless nights.

He could faintly make out his sister’s frantic cries as she was trying to lift him up, asking him what the hell was happening to him.

* * *

 

She was holding that weird blonde little girl, her grip like iron. She was their only leverage against James and his strange, merry company of hoodlums. The rebel scum that had to be eliminated. But she miscalculated. One of her gloves had been torn, right at the tip of one finger. It was all it took. The bare contact with the girl’s cheek lent Rogue her powers and resulted in the “awakening” of her teammates.

For a few moments she was lost. Her whole life, or more accurately the memories of a life she _thought_ true were being wiped out, were being replaced by others and it was so damn hard to remain real in a whole fake reality. And what about the little girl whose powers of validation she had absorbed? She had absorbed something else as well. Something dark and inhuman, something that would haunt her for a long time, in that reality or the next.

Rogue could only scream.

* * *

 

They were safely inside the Hellicarrier. Emma Frost was manipulating the minds of everyone around them, so their presence would go unnoticed. They were heading to Genosha. To confront the man everyone thought was behind of all that. The man that she, in another world, could have loved.

But Eric Magnus was not a facile opponent; he wouldn’t go down that easily. Scott was already assuming the role of the natural born leader, advising them to hold it together and forming a battle plan. But her thoughts were not on either of them. You see, Layla’s “awakening” didn’t include the eradication of their current memories. She couldn’t erase the countless nights Anna Marie had spent in Pietro’s arms.

She couldn’t negate the dread Rogue was experiencing as they were approaching Genosha and the upcoming confrontation with its royalties. And most of all, she couldn’t obliterate that crushing, guilt-ridden feeling that was tugging at Anna Marie’s heart, insisting that she was actually happy here, overflowing her with longing for what Pietro and she shared, not wishing for it to vanish along with everything else fabricated in that world.

Upon reaching the capital of Magneto’s empire, she fought like she had never fought before, projecting her pain and her frustration upon her imminent opponents. And then she saw him. He was shaking with rage, holding his…unconscious, no his _crumbling_ sister in his hands, demanding answers from their attackers. When he unleashed his fury upon them, she was there to stop him. They didn’t exchange many words, she didn’t even have the time to determine his state of mind. If he was just a pawn like the rest of them.

She didn’t have time for anything, really.

When that familiar voice roared through the skies and she found herself unable to move, bound by big chunks of metal, she knew the end was near. She knew there was nothing she could do but watch while Pietro was being crushed to death by his own father, an unholy sound of shattering bones ringing in her ears, bringing her to the verge of throwing up.

She screamed until she felt like her throat was being ripped out. And in that moment she knew that everything had been real.

When Wanda knelt above her brother, holding him in her arms, breathing life into his body once again, Rogue wanted to rush to their side. But something kept her rooted in her spot. Maybe, she thought, it was Emma’s powers keeping her in place. Maybe it was her own powerlessness, her sense of insignificance as the future was walking all around them. And when Wanda uttered those three little words, everyone must have felt the same.

* * *

 

The day after felt like the world was not going to feel right, ever again. Among the screams and the cries and the fainting children, she was sitting in a corner, lost and alone, trying to make some sense of the last couple of days.

Emma was asking her if she was remembering, trying to infiltrate her thoughts and failing because her patchwork of a mind had returned and with it the inability to touch naked flesh. She was the same scared little girl again.

And she was thinking of him. Of the limited time they had together, of how he was partially to blame for all this, of how everyone would be looking for him and his sister and he wouldn’t survive the justified rage of a whole decimated race. Of how she would most probably never see him again.

And she was angry and hateful and hurt and desperate.

And she was missing him.

**Author's Note:**

> I altered Rogue's backstory a bit here.


End file.
